


Why Does It Have To Be You

by LadyDrace



Series: Junk Ficlets from Tumblr [98]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Angst, First Kiss, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mechanic Derek Hale, POV Stiles, Pilot Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 04:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9418859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: Being in the resistance isn't pretty. Stiles is aware of this, but maybe he's been a little blind to some of the ways it's been painful to the people he cares about.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [charlesdk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesdk/gifts).



> Originally [posted on tumblr](http://ladydrace.tumblr.com/post/147254509291/so-hoechlbutt-was-talking-about-how-theres-just). 
> 
> Betaed by the lovely [Rita](http://crossroadswrite.tumblr.com/).

”I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to make that sound,” Stiles says smugly as he comes around the side of X-wing, already powering down again after the abysmal test-run.

 

”I know,” Derek grumbles, and hops out of the cockpit to crawl back inside the engine. It makes Stiles boggle, because an X-wing isn’t exactly a large craft, and he has to wonder exactly how much of its guts Derek has had to rip out to try and find the problem. ”I was so sure it was related to the tension coil, but obviously not,” he rants, his voice sounding hollow inside the metal.

 

A part that looks pretty important comes hurtling out, and Stiles darts aside to avoid it. ”Are you sure you don’t need that?”

 

”Not for this bit.”

 

”… it looks delicate.”

 

”It isn’t.”

 

”But still, should you be tossing parts arou-”

 

”Look,” Derek snarls, backing out of the engine cavity again, spanner raised menacingly, ”if you’re just here to nag-”

 

”I’m not here to nag!” Stiles assures rapidly. Derek’s eyes narrow, but he seems to eventually accept it on good faith anyway.

 

”Good, because if you were, I could offer a few choice words in return about your flying skills.”

 

”Hey, I fly just fine, Derek Hale!”

 

”Tell that to this engine,” he shoots back, voice strained with exertion. ”Maybe the exchanger…?”

 

”If it was down to my flying, smarty pants, wouldn’t there be more holes in the hull? Because unlike _some people_ , by whom I mean Isaac, I actually know how to duck and weave!”

 

”You also consistently push the engine past what it’s built for. One of these days I’m gonna make sure you get a droid you can’t sweet-talk into tweaking the engine mid-flight.”

 

”I only do it for emergencies!” Stiles argues, and there’s an ominous clang, as if Derek just gave up and smacked the engine with a wrench instead of trying to fix it.

 

”Then clearly with you every single flight is an emergency. Crap, hand me the Illum key.”

 

Stiles hands the tool in through the hole and feels it leave his hand as if by magic. ”It’s not like I do it on purpose, you know.”

 

”No, but maybe if you spent a little more time thinking ahead than flying by the seat of your goddamn pants, then maybe you wouldn’t end up in these situations so often.” The words have a lot more bite than usual, and Stiles frowns at Derek. Or, more accurately, at Derek’s legs, which is all he can see, considering the rest is tucked inside the engine.

 

”Wow, what crawled up your ass today?” Stiles asks, because Derek usually grumps and harrumps, but always with a lighter edge to it. Just blowing off steam with friendly banter. Stiles lives for his snark sessions with Derek, he hadn’t expected to be met with actual irritation when he came down here.

 

”You wanna know what crawled up my ass, Stiles?” Derek snarls, and squirms out of the engine to glare at him. ”This X-wing, is what! This is the third time this week I’m taking it apart!”

 

”So?” Stiles says, feeling a little shaken from the sheer force of Derek’s sudden anger. ”You’ll fix it. You always do.”

 

”You don’t get it!” Derek snaps, and the Illum key goes flying as he tosses it across the hangar. ”We are the _resistance_! We are _barely_ scraping by! We don’t have endless time and resources to fix shit up because assholes like you are more interested in glory and heroics than actually winning any battles!”

 

That stings, frankly, and Stiles isn’t about to stand for it. ”Excuse you, but all my missions are successful, Derek! _All_ of them!”

 

” _But at what cost?!_ ” Derek roars, and every single person in the hangar is looking at them now. ”Sure, you pull off one more stunt, but every time you do that, one more ship is out of commission for days, or even _weeks_. Weeks where you could be out there doing _dozens_ of missions! Have you ever considered that maybe admitting defeat just _once_ would be less of a blow to your precious pride and more of a help to the resistance?!”

 

Stiles feels bitterness sour his insides at the implication, and grits his teeth to avoid rising to the bait. ”Have you noticed I’m going on missions _for_ the resistance? Huh? Have you noticed how I’m just following orders?”

 

Derek flares his nostrils like he always does when he’s pissed, but it’s usually not directed at Stiles, and it’s never been less amusing than it is now. ”Have _you_ noticed how none of your orders ever involve almost getting yourself _killed_?!”

 

”I have, actually. Which is why I try my best to come home alive every time,” Stiles says with forced calm, which was obviously the wrong answer, judging by how Derek turns around and punches the already dented X-wing hard enough that it clangs hollowly.

 

”You’re not _getting_ it! You could call the mission off anytime! Declare it too risky or too much of a drain on resources! But _no_ , you can’t do that, can you. Not when you can fry another engine and _limp_ home to glory, having cheated death one more time. One more notch on your belt, right?”

 

”Derek,” Stiles says softly, searching his face in a vain attempt at figuring out where the hell this is coming from. ”I get these missions because I’m _good_. Because I get them done when others wouldn’t. And I joined the resistance knowing I could die on any mission. I’m not doing it for glory. And I’m not doing it to save the resistance a _buck_. I’m doing it because no one else can.”

 

”How do you know?” Derek asks, voice abruptly cracking. ”How do you know no one else can?” He stares at Stiles, shoulders slumping in defeat, and it makes Stiles’ heart hurt, suddenly and acutely. ”Why does it have to be _you_?”

 

”Because I’m the best,” Stiles says eventually, sounding weak even to his own ears. Derek looks beaten, worn down and just… sad. Sad like Stiles hasn’t seen him since he’d been told the last ruins of his childhood home had been leveled by yet another bombing run.

 

”I wish you weren’t.” It comes out as a whisper, but it sounds like a roar in Stiles’ ears, because how could he not have known? How could he not have _seen_? He’d gone out there every time, ready to die because he’d had nothing to lose. No one to leave behind. And yet, every time, Derek had been here, terror slowly building to this crescendo, quietly allowing Stiles to do what has to be done. Until now.

 

The X-wing creaks from the force of two people crashing into it, Stiles flinging his arms around Derek thoughtlessly, bringing them both off balance. ”I’m sorry,” he mouths against Derek’s tense shoulder, follows it up with a quick press of lips. ”I didn’t know, Derek, I didn’t…” he leaves more kisses along the neck and jaw, feeling Derek’s own arms shudder around him as he makes his way across the stubbled cheek. ”I’m so sorry, I’m, so-” Derek makes a soft noise against him as their lips meet, and Stiles vaguely registers the hum of activity starting up again around them as it becomes clear that no one is about to be murdered. But mostly he just feels Derek shaking.

 

”I’m sorry,” he says between kisses. ”So sorry, Derek. But you know I’ll have to go out there again.”

 

”I know,” Derek murmurs, eyes scrunched shut like he can deny the reality of his words by not looking at them. ”But maybe… maybe you could be a little less quick to volunteer for dangerous missions.”

 

Stiles lets out a watery laugh, and coaxes Derek’s head up until he finally opens his beautiful eyes. ”I can do that.”

 

End.


End file.
